


Forget me not

by xJane



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hanahaki Disease, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:21:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27658760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xJane/pseuds/xJane
Summary: Eliott doesn’t know much about love, but of three things he is certain.He knows the exact second he fell in love with Lucas Lallemant. He was halfway there the first time he saw him, walking through the hallway of his new school, staring at a beautiful boy, laughing boisterously. The second half took him surprisingly long, really. It happened when he stared at Lucas during the meeting about the foyer, when he shared a chocolate bar with Lucas, and when Lucas played the piano for him. But the moment he realized he was well and truly in love was when he touched those wild manes of Lucas’, standing in his doorway, looking into those huge, innocent blue eyes.But he also knows he is not made for love. He thought he was, for a few blissful moments in the rain, and between the sun-drenched sheets of Lucas’ bed – but then everything exploded in his face, Lucas making some casual remarks he couldn’t have known would hurt Eliott, and Eliott, instead of talking to him, fighting for love, chose the coward’s way out.And that is why he knows this too: there is no point in telling Lucas about the flowers growing in his chest.***Or, an ode to Lucas from Eliott.
Relationships: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant
Comments: 26
Kudos: 88





	Forget me not

**Author's Note:**

> A hanahaki fic about our boys.
> 
> It's pretty mild.
> 
> <3

Eliott doesn’t know much about love, but of three things he is certain.

He knows the exact second he fell in love with Lucas Lallemant. He was halfway there the first time he saw him, walking through the hallway of his new school, staring at a beautiful boy, laughing boisterously. The second half took him surprisingly long, really. It happened when he stared at Lucas during the meeting about the foyer, when he shared a chocolate bar with Lucas, and when Lucas played the piano for him. But the moment he realized he was well and truly in love was when he touched those wild manes of Lucas’, standing in his doorway, looking into those huge, innocent blue eyes.

But he also knows he is not made for love. He thought he was, for a few blissful moments in the rain, and between the sun-drenched sheets of Lucas’ bed – but then everything exploded in his face, Lucas making some casual remarks he couldn’t have known would hurt Eliott, and Eliott, instead of talking to him, fighting for love, chose the coward’s way out.

And that is why he knows this too: there is no point in telling Lucas about the flowers growing in his chest.

There is really no point in telling anybody, and for a while, he succeeds in keeping it hidden.

Lucille, naturally, notices first. She explodes in fury – all the other times Eliott chased that fleeting feeling of love, she knew it was meaningless, but this… This means Eliott loves somebody, completely and irrevocably, with his heart, his soul, his very essence – and it is not Lucille.

Eliott hates Lucille’s outraged dismissal, her cruel words, her harsh and humiliating final farewell, but he cherishes the little periwinkle flowers that tumble out of his mouth. He holds them in his hands, binds them together in a delicate bouquet, leaves them in Lucas’ locker or backpack when the younger boy isn’t looking. He paints them, over and over, the blue on his canvas reminding him of Lucas’ eyes, until his is out of paint and out of canvas – but not out of flowers, and not out of dreams of azure eyes.

A fourth thing he knows: he should go to the hospital. He should ask the surgeons to remove the flowers, remove his love for Lucas.

But he could never kill beauty.

And the flowers are beautiful, even if they hurt sometimes, when they constrict his throat and he has to gasp for air.

And love is beautiful too.

He didn’t think he would ever be capable of loving like that, and now that he does, he doesn’t want to let it go.

Love is worthwhile. Love is valuable. Love is true. Especially love for Lucas.

It gets harder, of course, after a while.

The roots are slowly taking over his lungs, the flowers become more persistent, it hurts to breathe, to eat.

But every morning, Eliott decides another day won’t hurt. Every morning, he decides to hide it for another day, go to school as if nothing is wrong.

Because that means another day of seeing Lucas, even only for a few brief moments in the cafeteria.

Another day of loving Lucas. Of looking at Lucas smile, and remembering how he smiled at Eliott. Of watching his mouth form words, and remembering how it felt to have those lips move against his skin. Of imprinting the details of his hands into his mind, and remembering the way they danced over black-and-white keys. Of seeing the breeze play with his untameable strands of soft hair, and remembering how they had tickled his fingers, and later his bare chest.

He drinks it all in, the immense joy he feels when he just sees Lucas from afar. The overwhelming feeling of wanting to make sure Lucas is happy, confident, safe. He can manage some little blue flowers constricting his airflow, when he sees Lucas open his locker and find a small bunch of them, looking around to see who might have left them there, and caressing the soft petals carefully with one finger, a wistful look in his big eyes. He wants to yell at Lucas how much he is loved – but he lost his chance. Whoever Lucas hopes is leaving him these gifts, it is no longer Eliott.

Still – if he goes to have the operation – his feelings for Lucas will disappear. And how can he break Lucas’ heart again? It was hard enough the first time – so doing it again? Knowing Lucas will keep opening his backpack, looking for a dried flower between his textbooks, the days passing by, until he loses hope, and that look of wonder and warmth in his eyes dies once more?

It is not an option.

It becomes harder, though, day by day, to make it to school. He is looking pale and tired, and he is out of breath walking from class to class. He barely has the energy left to cook, or eat, or do anything but rest once he gets home in the evening. The advantage is that the more he sleeps, the more he dreams of Lucas.

And then he feels the familiar dread, and he knows this is going to be bad.

The episode hits hard, and there is no way he can make it to school. He stays in bed, but slumber eludes him, and the flowers grip harder inside his chest, their roots filling his lungs, their stems clutching his heart.

Whether it is the added stress of the flowers, Eliott doesn’t know, but he spirals deeper than ever, and it reminds him that Lucas is better off without him. He imagines Lucas’ eyes, when another day goes by without a flower left for him to find. He imagines how his smile grows tighter. He imagines how his steps lose their bounce as he approaches his locker, his mind making up stories about why his admirer gave up on him. If Lucas was with him, it would be like that all the time. Every time Eliott had an episode, Lucas’ eyes would grow dull and his smile would become forced and Eliott would chase him away. It makes him sad, but determined. He has to make it out of this, get back to school, shower Lucas in flowers. One last time to blanket Lucas in love.

He picks the most delicately formed flowers, the petals matching Lucas’ eyes best, the softest blooms. Everything has to be perfect, because Lucas is perfect, and Eliott wants him to know that. He wants Lucas to know that it is not because he is inadequate that the flowers will stop – and really, he wants Lucas to understand that it was not because he did something wrong that Eliott broke things off between them. It is all on Eliott, and Eliott alone.

So he sneaks to Lucas’ locker when the latter is in biology class, and stands in a corner in the shadows when the bell goes, to watch Lucas when he finds the flowers.

This time, however, Lucas doesn’t look around when he sees the blue bouquet in his locker.

He bows his head, his shoulders sagging, and Eliott gets hit with the all-encompassing desire to go towards him and hold him until all his sadness seeps into Eliott’s body.

The bell goes again, signalling classes are starting, but Lucas doesn’t move. Eliott needs to get to maths, but he is glued to his hiding spot, eyes trained on Lucas.

The other students trickle out, disappear into their classrooms, and the hallway becomes silent.

Lucas is still standing near his locker, holding the bunch of flowers in his hand and staring at it, as if the yellow hearts hold the secrets to the universe. Eliott knows better – the key to happiness is not hidden in the flowers, but in Lucas’ eyes. He wants to walk up to him so badly, drink in those eyes again.

But he cannot. He should not. So he tries to walk by nonchalantly, not looking up, but Lucas must have noticed him and halts him with a word.

“Hi.”

Eliott stops abruptly, turning towards the sound, unsure if Lucas meant it for him, but when he meets Lucas’ eyes tentatively, the boy is staring right at him. He hesitates, unsure. Lucas doesn’t sound angry, although he must be upset with Eliott. His eyes are not warm, like cotton candy, the way they were before. Now, they are clouded over with poorly veiled hurt.

Then, Lucas takes a step towards him and stretches out his arm, holding the bouquet in his hand.

“Here. These are for you.”

“Uh, sorry? What?”

“These flowers. They’re for you.”

His voice is clipped, cold.

“Uh, I don’t understand –”

“Somebody left them in my locker. I don’t want them. You can have them.”

This is – not what is supposed to be happening. Lucas is supposed to like the flowers, feel loved and wanted.

“Why – why don’t you want them?”

“Because they are not from who I’d want them to be from.”

Eliott startles, his eyes going wide. Does Lucas know – how did he find out – he wasn’t supposed to know they were from Eliott.

He ignores the sharp stab of pain when he realizes that there is apparently somebody else Lucas would want to receive flowers from.

“Uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t –”

Lucas interrupts, his eyes on the tiny blue flowers.

“Forget-me-nots,” he scoffs. “Seems fitting, somehow. Because you have forgotten all about me, haven’t you? You forgot that you kissed me, over and over again, and promised to stay with me, and told me you broke up with your girlfriend. You forgot all about me and went back to her like nothing ever happened. It’s fine. I get it. Just…” His voice catches, and he wipes his free hand over his eyes. “Just take the fucking flowers, okay?” He almost slams them down into Eliott’s hand, and when Eliott doesn’t want to accept them – Lucas cannot return his final declaration of love to him, Eliott cannot take it back – he drops them on the floor as if they burn his hand. “Bye, Eliott. I won’t forget you.”

He sounds bitter, and the cynicism in his words is a dagger into Eliott’s heart.

He stares at Lucas walking off, and the tiny, sullied flowers on the floor, crushed and pathetic.

It is not enough.

Eliott should have known flowers would not be enough atonement for his sins.

He has got nothing left.

With a sob, he tries to pick up the stupid bouquet, to throw it in the trash where it belongs. He has to stop halfway through though, because a violent coughing fit overtakes him, and fresh flowers tumble around like snowflakes, as if to replace the ones that are lying smudged and torn on the floor.

The coughing doesn’t stop, and Lucas stops in his track, standing stiff, no doubt debating whether to check on Eliott or not. _Walk away, Lucas_ , he begs silently, but his pleas remain unanswered, as Lucas slowly turns around and says something Eliott doesn’t understand as another volley of flowers finds its way out.

Lucas freezes, and then comes closer, catches a few of the dancing flowers in his hand. He looks at them, and then at Eliott, and then at the flowers again – confused, unsure.

“Eliott, what – how…”, he stammers, and then, haltingly, tries to ask something. “Have you – was it you – who left these…”

Eliott wants to speak, but he is too out of breath. He sinks to his knees, his arms around his torso, trying to keep it together. He nods, looking up at Lucas, whose eyes are big and dark. A brief flash of something looking like hope appears, but before Eliott can take another look, it vanishes, and instead, there is nothing but wariness.

“I thought – you knew? You said they weren’t from the person you wanted them to be from…”

Lucas grimaces, and seems to debate what to say.

“Well, I – I thought – I didn’t know… Never mind. I was wrong, obviously…”

Lucas kneels next to him, picking up flowers from the floor, feeling their weight on his hand.

“But why? Why, Eliott? Why are you leaving me these? And why – why are you even… I don’t understand. Is Lucille mad at you? Is it about – about me? Why would she not return –”

It would be funny, if it wasn’t for the pain in Lucas’ voice when he says Lucille’s name. Yes, he wants to scream, she is mad at me, and yes, it is about you, because I cannot be with her in a world where there is you, Lucas…

But he doesn’t scream anything. He just says, quietly, almost against his will, “It’s not Lucille.”

Lucas closes his eyes, and Eliott wishes he wouldn’t do that. He needs to look into them, it grounds him, it makes everything worthwhile.

When Lucas finally opens them again, however, it is like a curtain has closed. His expression is carefully neutral.

“Okay,” he says, and his voice is schooled, calm. “You need to tell them, then.”

The coughing subsides slowly. Eliott still sits very still, looking at Lucas.

“He doesn’t feel the same.”

Lucas glances away, nodding sharply. Then he focuses his attention again on the pale flowers surrounding them.

“Why did you put all these flowers in my locker, Eliott?”

The question is soft, as if Lucas is afraid of the answer, and Eliott cannot do anything but give him raw honestly, lie his heart bare in front of the boy he loves.

“I hurt you, Lucas. I was wrong, and I regret it, but I know I can never undo what I did. But I need you to know it was never about you. You didn’t do anything wrong. It wasn’t ever because you were not everything I wanted. You were – you are perfect, I swear. It was never your fault, nothing of it. I – I got scared, and I… I thought you’d be better off without me, so I… I’m sorry, Lucas. I wanted you to know that. I wanted you to know… you deserve the world. You are the moon and the stars. I don’t regret anything about our time together except that I caused you pain.”

Please forgive me, he thinks desperately, please believe me, please remember this later, instead of the pain.

Lucas lets him speak, still mindlessly picking up flowers, fingering their soft edges, letting them fall, watching them twirl slowly down.

It is so silent in the hallway. Nobody passes. It is like everything is holding its breath together with Eliott.

Eliott watches Lucas, commits the image of Lucas surrounded by these blue flowers to his memory.

“But why the flowers, Eliott? Why did you not just tell me all that, leave me a message, a voice mail? Why the flowers?”

He sounds urgent, and somehow, there is a hint of something that tugs at Eliott’s heart, as if his answer is more important to Lucas than air or sunshine.

“I – Lucas…”

“Why the flowers?”

Eliott hesitates, and he startles when Lucas suddenly grabs his hand between his. He repeats the same words, softer, slower.

“Why the flowers, Eliott?”

He is no longer asking why Eliott left the flowers in his backpack, in his locker. He is asking why the flowers are growing in Eliott’s chest in the first place, and it’s like he thinks he knows the reason, but can’t believe it.

“I love you, Lucas. I have loved you almost since the day we met. I don’t think I will ever stop loving you.”

He wipes some flowers from his lap with his free hand. Lucas let go of his other hand then, and Eliott misses the warmth, and even more so the contact with Lucas’ skin. Tears pool in his eyes. He told Lucas, and it is as he knew all along – Lucas doesn’t feel the same. How could he ever expect him to, after what he did?

Then Lucas touches his hand again, and puts some of the blue blooms in them.

“Here,” he says. “I told you this is for you. I don’t need flowers to remember you by… I think about you all the time. I…”

He hesitates, and there is apprehension in the way he carefully leans closer.

“I love you too.”

It is said in such a small voice, as if he is still afraid Eliott might suddenly take it all back again, but then he says it a second time, and this time he is bold, determined.

“I love you, Eliott.”

And Eliott feels the flowers shrink inside him, but that is not important right now.

Slowly he lifts his hands to cradle Lucas’ cheek, the flowers still dangling from his fingers, and the blue is a perfect match for Lucas’ eyes, which are once again open and full of light.

There is not a lot he knows of love, but he knows Lucas’ eyes. And when he kisses Lucas for the first time after weeks of longing, he promises himself he will bring Lucas flowers every day, every day for the rest of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope I managed to get across what's going on in Lucas' mind adequately...
> 
> Either way, I would love it if you left me a comment!
> 
> <3


End file.
